Telemetric Optimism

Every inch that was fought for
Towards the unwound
Rippling expansion
That can be explained
But won’t make sense
Demanding oblivious 
Acceptance

I feel more comfortable in cycles
I fear downpour or spurts
Pay no mind 
The long lines
If it guarantees a turn
For all

This gregarious scourge,
The expanse none of us we’ll see
Submit to the urge
The filled up is the same cup
That’s brimming and empty